A/N: I should stop writing one-shots and probably update my stories but seeing as how I've been cornered, one-shots can perhaps help get everything else working. Anyways, here's a little something I came up with.
"I had a dream that you were gone,
Woke up and you were gone..."
-Silver Coin, Angus & Julia Stone
She & Him
Summary: No one knew she could trace all of his old scars. But they knew it hurt her to learn of the new ones. Mal/Inara, hints of Wash/Zoe and Kaylee/Simon
Zoe
She watched out for her captain. He trusted her with his life and she with hers. But sometimes, things got real ugly and his hero complex had him making sacrifices she couldn't deter him from. Sometimes, things got real bad and there was little she could do. Almost every job they've had, he'd either been shot, stabbed, beat up, tortured, or a combination of the four. He'd rather it were him and never her. It was his code. They'd survived years that way, by some miracle of it. Somewhere along the way though, she'd married his pilot and then, Mal had a solid reason to make sure she always returned unharmed. Nothin' more than a few cuts and bruises while he dealt with the brunt of it.
That was her captain.
That was how he'd always been, how he'd operated.
He wasn't really a man of change and so not even love was like to stop him from entering extremely dangerous situations and coming out of them with barely more than a heartbeat. But it did cause plenty of change in her. She was a woman of class, perfect composure, elegance and grace. Emotionally, Inara was always aloof, strong. She was trained in reading expressions and feelings from people and so, she had perfected her own.
But Zoe could see through her facade as easily as any woman in love might have, companion training or no.
It was there in the way she was always first on scene whenever they returned from a fresh heist. She'd try to remain stoic, uninterested. Yet, her dark eyes darted about expectantly. She smiled when she'd see them and there was some relief but she wasn't ever truly at ease until he'd board Serenity. She'd get especially apprehensive when he wasn't the first one on the ship. It seemed the question lingered on her tongue, her lips parted, asking desperately what her voice wouldn't dare. Zoe saw it, heard it even when she didn't speak, but she answered the companion in her own way. She'd turn and say something to acknowledge her captain. Only then would Inara let go of the breath she never knew she had been holding. But those were the easier times.
When Zoe would have to come onto the ship, battered, bruised and carrying an unconscious Mal, that was when the companion and the woman warred within Inara. She masked it well, hid it beneath plain concern but it didn't fool Zoe. Her fingers twitched, hands itched at her sides, she'd take a few strides in his direction and then force herself to stop and look away. She wanted to touch him, to feel him, to make sure he was okay. She wanted to run to him, to help in whatever way she could. But she controlled it and maintained her distance instead. The companion always won. She'd stand by idly, watching as Jayne grabbed the doctor while the rest of them tried to get Mal's limp body into the infirmary. Kaylee would stand next to her and Zoe could have sworn she'd seen the young mechanic lace her fingers with Inara's a few times.
Shepherd would help get Mal's clothes off, revealing the injuries that the captain had sustained. Bullet wounds, clean cuts from knives, burnt skin from explosions or electrocution. It didn't matter what it was each and every time. Her reaction was always the same when Mal was on the edge of death. She would hover outside the infirmary, pacing, staring at the floor, trying to calm her nerves so that River and Kaylee wouldn't panic. She wouldn't dare peek inside, wouldn't allow herself that moment of weakness. She was too afraid to see, too afraid to know. So, she'd wait because there wasn't much else she could do. But Simon was exceptionally skilled and Mal always had a good habit of surviving. He'd come through, if only a little worse for wear. Simon would only leave his side once he knew his patient was stable, but it weren't ever enough for her.
One time, Zoe had come down to check up on him in the night, after Wash had fallen asleep. That was when she'd seen her in the infirmary, curled up on an uncomfortable fold out chair, fast asleep. She stayed close to his passed out form, lying still on the stretcher, his breathing easy and quiet. His naked and bandaged body was now covered with a warm fleece blanket that had clearly come from her shuttle, and one of her hands was clasped over his own. Zoe didn't need any further confirmation. She left them that night, and every other night, without another mention of it.
Jayne
Strange woman, she was. That companion. Fought with the capt'n one minute and cried for him the next. Didn't make no ruttin' sense. Women were always so gorram emotional over nothin'. Why'd she give a damn about a no good thief like the capt'n, anyhow? Clear as day she thought she were too good for him, too good for the entire crew. Ain't no place for a man like Mal in her shiny world. But she'd always give that look, that same look every time. Standin' there in her fancy silks and wearin' all that makeup, lookin' like a doll. She'd never look at anyone else quite the same way. Capt'n would come right in like he was some damn hero after a heist and she'd be there, lookin' all pretty and clean. She'd be wearin' that stupid smile and lookin' at him like he was a piece of shiny itself.
Only time she'd ever even look at Jayne was when the capt'n were hurt real bad and real ugly on a caper. Like the times when he'd have to be carried back on to Serenity. Then she'd stare at Jayne with them pretty brown eyes and it were like she was beggin' him for somethin'. He jus' didn't know what. What the hell was he supposed to do? He weren't no doctor, he couldn't make the man better jus' cause she was lookin' at him all weird like. She did it all the same and it unsettled him. He didn't envy Mal. The woman was strange. Beautiful, but strange. And it weren't like Mal was gettin' anythin' out of it. She sure as hell wasn't beddin' him. If she was, then maybe he'd be a mite jealous.
When he'd gotten Mal into the infirmary for the doc to get to work, she followed behind him, all her skirts trailin' after. He laid him down and she stepped beside him, starin' at the wounds and the fresh blood. It covered Mal's face as well as Jayne's shirt. The bullet holes in his chest were bleedin' somethin' nasty, too. He looked pale and sweaty and things weren't exactly bright and happy for the capt'n. Jayne watched her watch him, stared at the way her dainty hands came up to cover her mouth. Mal weren't breathin' and she'd started to cry. She backed up against the doc's stuff and tried her hardest not to show the tears. Simon came runnin' in then and, when he saw Mal and noticed his condition, he kicked everyone out 'cept for Zoe. Foldin' up his sleeves, doc set to work.
Jayne never thought that the woman were capable of tears. She didn't even cry when her whore friend died. Why for Mal? She was sittin' in a dark corner, far from everyone and hidden, when he'd seen her on his way to his bunk. Her head was buried in her arms and her shoulders shook, black curls obscurin' her face. Only reason he even noticed her was 'cause of the soft noises she was makin'. Jayne weren't no fool, though; he recognized a woman's tears when he saw them. Some tears she was cryin', too. Never thought he'd see her like that. Weren't like the capt'n was dead. Not yet, anyways. But she was sittin' there, all sad, as if he was. Jayne weren't no good at comfortin' but 'Nara was part of the crew and he didn't like seein' pretty women cry much, besides. So he did the only thing he thought he could do: let her be and made sure everyone else stayed away to give her some privacy. He didn't tell a soul what he saw that evenin', especially Mal.
Didn't make no ruttin' sense, it didn't.
Why a pretty woman like her cried for a man she wanted to strangle moments before, especially a criminal low life like the capt'n.
Maybe Jayne was a mite jealous of Mal after all.
Kaylee
'Nara didn't know. That one time she didn't know, it was real bad. She'd been with a client and wasn't expected back for the entire evening. She'd cut it short, though. When Kaylee had asked her about it later, she said somethin' had come up and her client had to postpone their encounter.
She'd come onto the ship, pickin' up on Wash's nervous voice when she'd parked her shuttle. She was speed walkin' towards the cargo bay in mere moments, still dressed for the occasion. Her hair was all nice and up, her makeup was heavy and she still wore that glamorous dress Kaylee had always wanted to try on. She came down the stairs as quick as her little heels would let her and she looked at Kaylee with a question. Turned out the last job was a total bust and it left more than half the crew reelin' with hurts. Capt'n was caught in a bad explosion and had some serious burns all over his back. It had been so rough that when Simon made to take Mal's shirt off, some of his skin came off with it. Capt'n was in real pain. He'd screamed so loud, Kaylee thought she could still hear the ringin' of it in the ship, bouncin' off the metal long after.
He'd kept screamin' and screamin' until Simon finally gave him somethin' to knock him out, ease his pain. 'Nara had made it just in time to hear Mal cry out in agony before any of the medication took effect. Her eyes widened and she'd looked towards the infirmary, heart caught in her throat. It was the first time the companion had ever shown fear. Or at least, the first time Kaylee had picked up on it. She lifted her heavy skirts and ran towards the window of the infirmary, peering inside. Kaylee ran after her, scared she'd barge in while the doctor was at work. Mal was cringin' on the table, face concerted in pain, teeth grindin' against teeth. His hands were claws as he clutched at the mattress of the stretcher. His back was a giant, bloody, charred mess of cooked and raw skin blendin' together. It weren't no pretty sight and Kaylee had to bring herself to look away.
The rest of the crew had suffered only minor burns thanks to Mal. He'd gotten them movin' quickly while he grabbed the heaviest of the haul. He'd suffered the worst of it because of that. They were all in the infirmary now, and Simon was workin' hard makin' rounds with the three of them.
It was difficult to watch him like that.
Capt'n was always so strong.
He could get through anythin'.
Torture, everythin'.
But it didn't mean it weren't painful.
Seein' him hurtin' was tough.
So Kaylee found Inara's hand and laced her fingers with hers. She clutched tightly and 'Nara didn't let go. She'd gone to her shuttle shortly after, only comin' out after she'd taken everything off. No more makeup, no fancy dresses. Just 'Nara in her simple gown, sandals and with her hair down.
"How's he doing?" She'd asked, her voice quiet.
"Doc says there'll be some scarrin'. But other than that, the damage weren't none too bad. He'll be fine. Just gotta avoid any heavy liftin' and sleepin' on his back for a long while," Kaylee explained, rubbing her arms.
"More scars," 'Nara stated.
Kaylee nodded, "More scars."
"Just keeps adding to his collection, doesn't he?" 'Nara continued.
But this one wasn't too pretty. It healed, eventually. But the skin that replaced it didn't look none too healthy. 'Nara had bought a special salve, an expensive one and it was, as Kaylee would later learn, from an Alliance vendor. She'd spend every night for a month rubbin' it on Mal's back, even though he hadn't seen a point to it. Told her it weren't going to help and that he'd only wind up with more scarrin' besides. Said he appreciated her makin' him all pretty but he didn't mind bein' a scary, mean, old man. However, she'd been persistent and he couldn't really refuse after knowin' the money she'd spent on the thing.
But Mal never did really see the way she had went about it, how she'd looked when she was rubbin' it on. But Kaylee had, on one night when she'd been havin' her hair braided and Mal had shown up for his treatment. 'Nara sat behind him cross legged on her bed, took in a deep breath and set to work. As soon as his shirt had fallen off, her breath hitched and she stared at his back with somethin' a lot like pain. The way she caressed it with her soft hands after, it was so tender. She was so gentle, even though it had healed. She took her time, got the salve everywhere, and made sure that it all seeped into his skin. Kaylee had started to feel a little flushed, thinkin' she may be interruptin' something a little intimate. Like it were some romantic ritual between the two of them.
Then, when she was done, 'Nara told him to let it dry before puttin' on any clothes, and sent him on his way. The salve dried her hands up and the instructions had said she use gloves but when Kaylee asked 'Nara why she didn't, the companion smiled and said she preferred the gentle touch of skin, not plastic.
Ever since that one time, Kaylee had taken it upon herself to let her know. Whenever a job had gone south and Mal had shown up barely breathin', Kaylee was wavin' Inara, regardless of who the companion was with. The young mechanic didn't really think she'd always come, didn't think she'd up and leave some of her more important clientele for the capt'n.
But she was always there within moments, the sound of her shuttle settling in would let them know she had arrived.
Always.
And when she'd join them in waiting outside of the infirmary, Kaylee's hand found hers.
Shepherd
He'd always known. He was probably the only one who knew from the beginning. Her reaction never caught him off guard. It never surprised him. Shepherd Book had known that Inara had feelings for the captain, ever since the day he'd met her. The way they had jibed at one another, like children. Like a couple that was denied their chance at romance. He'd picked up on it in the way they danced around one another in their conversations, always avoiding the elephant in the room.
Inara loved Malcolm.
It was why she prayed for him and never told him. It was why she found him so fascinating. It was why she lingered on the ship even when her trade was stalled. It came as no surprise to Shepherd Book that whenever Mal found himself under Simon's knife, when he was caught between the current of life and death, Inara was terrified.
It was an inner conflict. Her love for him and her passion for her career set her at odds. Companion or not, there was no mistake that Inara Serra cringed when he'd torn the captain's shirt off to reveal the thin, jagged, long and bloody knife cuts in his skin. She couldn't look when he removed his pants and the bullet wound in his thigh bled profusely. When he had asked her to press onto the wound to stop him from losing blood, Inara's hand shook as she followed instruction. After he'd made the tourniquet and the doctor was on his way, Inara stared at her hand, covered in Mal's blood and then wiped it on the skirt of her dress. She then rubbed at her cheek absentmindedly, smearing the bright red, sticky mess onto the perfect skin of her face. It marked her everywhere and Shepherd wondered if she was bothered by it at all.
It was a strange romance and certainly not one he'd expected to ever hear of. Who would think a companion and a smuggler would ever be part of the same world, much less have any romantic inclination for each other? Shepherd disproved of what they both did, believing they were sinful careers regardless of how society viewed it. He never really voiced this because he found himself caring for the individuals on a personal level that went beyond what they did for a living.
Over time, he'd come to believe it was good for them, that they were good for one another, despite the hardships and the arguing. It could be beneficial and so, he stayed out of it. He didn't tell Inara that Mal's blood was staining her skin and her clothes. But he did pay her a visit in her shuttle shortly after Mal had gotten up. The captain limped about his ship like he hadn't just been shot and stabbed to the brink of death but Inara hadn't gone down to see him ever since. Shepherd found her staring into a bowl of water, where strings of bright red blood swirled on the surface, before blending in. The captain's blood. She'd washed her hands.
"Tāmāde hùndàn," She whispered, her voice shaking.
She rested her forehead in her wet palms and Shepherd was at her side in seconds. He placed a comforting hand on her back and tried to console her, much like she had in his time of need. But it didn't help that he didn't even really know why she was suddenly so upset. Mal was just fine and Inara was a strong woman.
"Why him?" Her voice was barely audible.
He didn't know what she'd meant, didn't quite understand. But he couldn't pester her, not right then. Something about their relationship tormented her, ate away at her. Every time he'd go out on a job, it was always a question of whether or not he'd make it back in one piece. But there was more to it than just that, Shepherd could sense it. That struggle she had, trying to overcome what she felt for Mal in order to continue making a respectable living; that was something that tugged at her, too.
Or maybe, maybe she could only stand to watch him come close to death so many times before it had become too much for her. To come so close to losing someone you love, over and over. It wasn't anything easy.
So Shepherd stayed with her, for as long as she needed.
Simon
Inara was out of Mal's league. She was wealthy, beautiful, born in class and came from a respectable world. Mal was an ex soldier in a war he'd lost. A war he'd volunteered for. Before that, he had grown up on a farm. And after he'd lost the war, he had turned to a life of petty crime, always running from the law. Malcolm Reynolds was nowhere near the same level as the companion. It was no wonder he held so much contempt for what she did. He hated that it made her better than him, made him unworthy of her.
It wasn't entirely a secret that Simon didn't quite like Mal very much and that the captain didn't really like him. But they were on the same ship and they were crew. So they worked together. And more times than he could count, Mal was on his table, in need of medical attention. A life such as his would always end up there, it went hand in hand.
What didn't add up was Inara's presence. It shouldn't have mattered to her. She was just a woman who rented a shuttle and did her business while on Serenity. No obligation, not part of the crew, no reason to hide from the Alliance whatsoever. And, unlike Simon, she wasn't forced to deal with the captain as frequently as the crew members.
Yet, there she was, the first to rush to him when he'd open the doors of the infirmary. He'd be removing his bloodied gloves and then instantly greeted with her urgency. She never said much but it was there in her sleep deprived eyes. She was worried sick. She cared about him so much and it bothered Simon that she did. Mal never exactly treated her well, exchanging insults with her more often than not. He hurt her plenty of times. Would he have even done the same for her?
Simon sighed when he'd realized it.
There wasn't a doubt in his mind that Mal would be torn apart if it were Inara lying on his table instead, death closing in on her. He hated to admit it. But he knew. If anything, the captain would have been far more devastated than she was. He'd have been breathing down Simon's neck the entire time, not leaving him alone to work.
"Is he going to be okay?" She had asked him.
Her skin had come alive with goose bumps and she hugged her bare arms in response. Even though she was concerned, worried, and scared, she still seemed to glow with a wonderful energy and Simon could understand why Mal might have wanted so desperately to bask in that. He wanted her attention, even if it was her anger.
"I've managed to take out all of the bullets. Thankfully, nothing major was hit so his vital organs are fine. He's just lost a bit of blood and I'm giving him a transfusion as we speak. Other than that, he needs to rest and, hopefully by tomorrow, he can eat and drink plenty of fluids," Simon had explained to the crew.
She had smiled at him, sweet and sincere.
A calm had settled onto her fine features and, when the rest of the crew was out of earshot, she whispered, "Would he be ready for visitors?"
Simon had peered back at his sleeping patient before turning to face Inara.
"I don't see why you can't keep him company. Just don't expect much stimulating conversation. I dosed him with plenty of pain killers and the anaesthetic is still wearing off," Simon replied.
Inara laughed, rich and real, and it was nice to see her returm to her old self.
"Even awake, the captain has never been one for stimulating conversation, doctor," She teased.
She stepped gingerly inside his infirmary, closing the door behind her and leaving Simon to wonder. He caught Kaylee's eye and the young mechanic smiled at him genuinely. He thought of Inara and Mal, of the two different worlds they both came from, how Inara was beyond Mal's grasp.
But what if it had been Kaylee...?
He shook that thought out of his head as soon as it had come.
He had returned Kaylee's smile and made to join her. All he could do for Inara was keep the captain alive, no matter the wounds he'd present with. He knew he would want the same thing if it were him and so he hoped that it would always be enough.
Wash
It was rough bein' married to a woman as strong as Zoe. Not in any conventional terms, just that knowin' she was Mal's right hand all the time and, therefore, always in danger was not easy to accept. Hard to sit there and take it. She was his wife after all and when she was in great peril, it was sort of his duty as loyal husband to go about saving her. So he could identify with Inara. He totally understood. He tried putting up the facade, like it was always okay, but truth be told, it was hard not to pick a fight after Zoe came back, damaged from a scrap. He wanted nothin' more than to have it out with her and the captain except, normally, the captain was in worse condition than Zoe and he'd feel guilty roughin' him up some in that weakened state. Not to mention, poor Inara. It was bad enough seeing him bleeding everywhere on the ship, she wouldn't want to see more blood because of Wash punching him in the face.
So he'd let it slide. Over and over again. He'd have it out with his wife every now and then but the gorram woman always ended up naked in his arms by the end of it and he was truly helpless when it came to that. Sometimes, he wondered if maybe Mal and Inara needed some angry sex, too. Might help relieve some of that tension. And it might also help ease the arguments. If it was one thing Wash learned, it was that fights ending in good sex weren't ever ugly and that was probably why things between the captain and Inara were always so strained. Maybe they should have locked them up in her shuttle and just waited it out. Of course, there was the off chance that once they opened the door, they could have killed each other instead.
Scary thought.
Regardless of the fightin' and the arguing, it was pretty obvious Inara cared about Mal and the pilot thought that maybe, it was good that she did. Someone needed to love the damn fool, might just save his life one day. Heaven knew that Zoe needed Wash. When they'd first met, it was anything but pleasant. She was battle starved after losing the war, reckless and impulsive. She'd storm into dangerous situations, guns a blazin' with no regard for her own safety. She just wanted to make them Alliance bastards pay. Much like the captain, actually. But alas, Wash had tamed the warrior woman's heart. Or so, he liked to think, in his own poetic fashion.
She was a little more cautious after their marriage, especially after their first big fight about it. And maybe that was the thing: Inara wouldn't tell Mal how much it bothered her. Instead, she let it eat away at her, slowly. She was always there for him, though, whether he was conscious or not. Mal must have noticed it. Everyone else on the ship sure did. Except maybe Jayne. Because he was Jayne and his brain wasn't any bigger than a fly's.
Even River was on to it and the girl couldn't have been in her right mind.
But if Mal did notice, he didn't make any mention of it and Wash found himself feelin' real sorry for Inara. Every time she'd dock her shuttle after hearin' the bad news from Kaylee, she'd ask him who was hurt and how bad it was and Wash almost didn't want to tell her the truth. He wanted to laugh, make some kind of joke of how the captain always lived and that it was probably just his way of getting an ego boost from playing hero. But, he never did. Mainly because he wouldn't take it too kindly if someone joked when Zoe was ever hurt.
"You're a wonderful husband, Wash," Inara had told him one evening.
It had been the time Zoe had gotten some burns thanks to a deadly explosion from the Alliance military on a risky heist. Wash had been furious. He'd stormed right into the infirmary where Mal was suffering from his own wounds, and gave him a piece of his mind. A very loud piece of his mind. Zoe hadn't said a word the entire time. She'd sat there and let her husband be the husband, for a change. Only after the doctor had patched her up did she tell him how Mal had actually saved her skin. And Jayne's. Although, Wash wasn't married to Jayne so he didn't particularly care for that detail.
Wash hadn't felt bad, though. He argued that if the captain hadn't been so gorram reckless in the first place, all of it could have been avoided. His injuries were his own damn fault, as were Zoe's.
Inara had heard them arguing in the cargo bay. Then again, everyone sort of did. He only really felt the guilt because of Inara. He saw himself in her. She would have loved someone to blame, like how Wash could easily blame Mal. But she couldn't, and it pained her to know that his words were true; Mal was the reason Mal was hurt. Always was.
Wash had never felt like the evil dinosaur, the one who would betray his crew. He thought he fit the naive, humorous one a little bit better.
Until Inara had made him feel like the super villain T-Rex.
He'd instantly softened up when she had complimented him. He didn't think she meant it, but she was so sincere, even smiled at him sadly with her painted lips before departing to her shuttle.
For her sake, he'd gone to apologize to Mal about his behaviour earlier, after the captain was feelin' a touch better. But Mal pretended like he didn't even remember Wash being there because of all the pain, drugs and confusion. It was just like him to brush it off, for Zoe's sake most like.
That was when Wash had come to realize that Mal probably blamed himself a lot, too.
River
Mal: bad in Latin.
Even his head was full of bad.
Bad memories.
Bad fights.
Bad wounds.
Bad, bad, bad.
But Mal wasn't a bad man.
Somewhere, there was some good.
Shiny light, happy places, Serenity, his crew, and Inara.
Inara was good.
But Inara was sad. Always sad.
River wanted to help, to make it go away but she couldn't. She couldn't even help herself. She was rarely even herself. But Mal was hurting and Inara was hurting and everything was sad. It wasn't fair because Inara was always nice to her. She was always there for her. She played with her hair, braided it and made it real pretty, like hers. If River was going to go dancing, she'd want Inara to make her presentable. Then she could dance and not worry about all that hair.
But love made people sick and Inara was sick. The emotion did weird things to people and their minds, even weirder than what they had done to hers; two by two, hands of blue.
Mal, he wouldn't stop thinking about Inara. He thought of her all the time. Her smell, her clothes, her hair, her lips, her body. Even when he was about to die, Mal thought of her. He thought about kissing her a lot, doing some funny thing with his tongue. River thought it was unhygienic but it was lumped with the little bit of good in his mind.
Inara kept praying to her deity, kept begging to keep him alive. It didn't make any sense that she would pray for Mal and not herself. But praying to something that didn't really exist was always a concept River couldn't understand. She thought of the Shepherd and his bible, full of errors, of double standards and hypocrisy. How could any of that stop Mal from bleeding out? How could it remove the bullets?
Simon was removing the bullets, through strict, sterile, surgical procedures. River laughed; Simon wasn't a God. He didn't have any books, either and no one prayed to him. But if Inara was going to pray, then it should have been to Simon. He was the one always bringing Mal out of death, even when Mal wanted to die.
Mal always gave up so easily on living.
His thoughts would go back to Serenity Valley, where he'd lost. Where he should have died, with the rest of his men. But he hadn't and he always thought that was a mistake.
River thought that if Inara had known the man Mal used to be, things would have been easier. He used to be happy, young, fearless. He'd have scooped her up and carried her off back then, not caring about the fact that she was a companion.
Companions weren't whores, after all.
They were like geishas.
Painted with so many colours, not ashamed of their sexuality.
But Mal called Inara a whore a lot. He didn't like it when she would have sex with other men. It was his method of trying to push her away, of reminding himself that she wasn't any good for him.
But if she wasn't good, then why were his thoughts of her always associated with good?
Besides, River liked Inara.
Inara was warm.
Mal agreed but he never said it.
He'd regret it. When he was dying.
He'd always regret it.
Getting all cut into, the reaper was getting ready to drag him off and he'd say all the things he wished he'd said to Inara. He'd take it all back, tell her that it was just his way and that he was a stubborn, mean, bitter, old man. He'd tell her she deserved better, that she was a woman not like any other and that she'd always been special to him. But the reaper would drag him below before he could finish and Simon would pull him back up.
This emotion, love. It terrified River. It seemed so dangerous, what it did to them. It made them sad, happy, scared, miserable, glad and everything else.
Too much, way too much.
The feelings made their thoughts all scattered, hard to read and sort and she wanted to just shut them out because they overwhelmed her. No place for all of that in her head, too. No room. There were things she already knew, things she shouldn't have known. She didn't want to be in their heads, but Inara would be exploding with it.
So many questions.
No answers.
That was how it always was with them.
It frustrated even River.
Mal should have known Inara cried.
It hurt seeing Inara cry, even if it was just in her head.
Like the time with Nandi. Inara had cried a lot back then. Maybe Mal couldn't handle her tears. Was that why she hid?
Maybe they were playing hide and seek.
Tag, Mal's it.
But one day, it would be Inara's turn and neither Mal's God nor anyone's God would be able to do a thing. Not even Simon, brilliant as her brother was. She'd stay frozen in time, never changing. But time was winning anyways and River feared Mal's mind when it ran out. When Inara was 'it', what would become of the man then?
Mal: bad.
Maybe not just in Latin anymore.
-fin
A/N: Took me a few days to get this piece together. It was a real challenge digging into every crew member's minds. Particularly River. I don't feel very confident when I write her. She has a complex mind. Makes me envy the writers who can do it so well. It was also a challenge trying not to make each perspective repetitive seeing as how it was the same scenario playing throughout the entire thing. I wanted to showcase different sides of Inara's suffering and how each crew member saw her, varying on their relationships.
Feedback of any kind is welcomed, of course.
One Chinese phrase was used:
Tāmāde hùndàn: fucking asshole